


Kintsugi

by JoifulDreaming



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:35:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25692901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoifulDreaming/pseuds/JoifulDreaming
Summary: There was little about Aziraphale that escaped Crowley's notice.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 99





	Kintsugi

**Author's Note:**

> [Inspired by the Japanese art of Kintsugi: "repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum, a method similar to the maki-e technique.As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise.”](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kintsugi) and the fact that Aziraphale seems to limp when he's temporarily discorporated and sent to heaven.

Crowley had written it off as a figment of his imagination the few times he thought he had noticed it: the slight limp in Aziraphale’s walk. Angels didn’t really get hurt and, if they did, they could heal themselves. If it was bad enough, they could go to one another for healing. No, there was no reason for Aziraphale to have a limp. And, every time Crowley thought he saw it in the next blink it would be gone.

In the days leading up to (what was to be) the failed end of the world, he thought he saw the limp with increasing frequency. Maybe it was stress on his own part: the ever-present worry that they wouldn’t be able to save the world, that they would be parted, that one of them (maybe both of them) would be destroyed... Really, there were a lot of stressors. Maybe he wanted to see something he could actually put his hands on as a problem. Or... maybe the strain was living in Aziraphale and he was having more difficulty hiding his physical ailment. Crowley couldn’t decide because, again, as soon as he would be sure there was something amiss he would take a breath to address it and then the evidence would be gone. They would be off chasing the doomed apocalypse or arguing over the merits of running away from it.

As they walked back to his flat after dining at the Ritz he noticed the limp again. Aziraphale was a couple steps ahead of him, talking about his favorite part of the meal and there it was: a slight lopsidedness to his gait. Crowley could kick himself. He was inside that corporation just hours ago. He could have checked for himself. But, he had been too busy trying to save Aziraphale’s whole self. It hadn’t occurred to him to give the angel a physical once-over. And, really, wouldn’t that be an invasion of privacy?

He caught up quickly enough, taking in the angel’s face and finding no distress there. He couldn’t just ask, could he? “Hey I’ve known you 6,000 years and I’m just now noticing that you limp on one leg... what’s that about, eh?” There was no decent way to ask. It might be something that Aziraphale didn’t want to discuss.

Only now they were at his door and he hadn’t heard much of anything Aziraphale had said the whole way here. He hardly remembered putting one foot in front of the other. He had just followed Aziraphale like a puppy, worrying and fretting and trying desperately to figure out how to bring this up. He wanted to know that Aziraphale was okay, that was all.

Yet, somehow, his mouth was running. Which, wasn’t really a good thing, since he wasn’t in complete control of it. It was meandering on about something. Ducks, it seemed, and methods to make them less buoyant. How had they gone from talking about dinner to discussing the buoyancy of water fowl?

Aziraphale was giving him the most peculiar look: head tilted and a soft smile on his face. It was only interrupted by the occasional glance at the door beside them. The door that was still closed. Because Crowley couldn’t stop talking about ducks while he thought about asking him why he limped.

And then Aziraphale’s warm, soft hand was on his cheek and his lips- somehow even warmer and more soft were on his own. Whatever Crowley had been about to add to the duck discussion (for the curious: he was about to propose the idea of finding something equally as buoyant as a duck and strapping the duck to the thing to see if the duck would spin perpetually in the pond) died on a gasp.

“Could we go inside?” Aziraphale’s face was still close to his, the soft smile from before tugging harder at the side of his mouth. Crowley nodded dumbly and snapped the lock open. “There we are.” Aziraphale had hooked his elbow in Crowley’s and was leading him inside.

Brain still stalled out completely from the kiss, Crowley stood in his own entryway while watching Aziraphale venture further into his flat. The sounds of a kettle being put on (did he even own a kettle?) and mugs being set out on the counter drifted his way from the kitchen.

Aziraphale had kissed him.

Aziraphale had kissed him as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Aziraphale had kissed him while he’d been having a serious thought. But, that thought was gone now. All that existed in Crowley’s head was the feel of Aziraphale’s lips on his own. The gentle breath that tripped over his chin as the angel had pulled away and smiled at him.

And Crowley hadn’t had a chance to respond to that kiss. He wandered into his own kitchen in a daze.

“I hope you don’t mind... I miracled over my own kettle and mugs. You really have nothing in here, Crowley,” Aziraphale tutted, “I figure... well, I figure I won’t be getting any more memos about frivolous miracles from upstairs. Not for a while, anyway.”

Crowley found himself standing directly behind Aziraphale now, close enough that he could feel the heat of him. When the angel turned he startled.

“Crowley!” a hand went to his chest, “I’m glad I wasn’t holding the mugs... what a mess! Really, though, if you’re going to have a kitchen you should at least make an attempt to stock it- mph!”

He hadn’t really given it a lot of thought. Really, no fretting at all had occurred. Aziraphale had kissed him in the hallway which meant that it was okay for Crowley to kiss him in the kitchen. a + b = b + a

Aziraphale’s hands wasted no time finding the waistband of Crowley’s too-tight jeans and untucking his shirt. Those hands that had been on his face mere minutes ago traced over his belly and then his sides on their way to his back where they clawed him closer with always-well-manicured, blunt nails. Crowley pressed him harder into the counter top, sucking his lower lip into his mouth and scraping his teeth over it. The angel made a sound deep in his chest, one of his hands dipping beneath Crowley’s waistband to grab a handful of Crowley’s ass.

Crowley broke the kiss off abruptly, leaning his forehead against Aziraphale’s and sucking in some deep breaths even as he rutted against him.

Suddenly, the kettle went off on the stove beside them, causing them to spring apart and spin wildly, looking for whatever danger had found them. They both looked from the still-whistling kettle to one another at the same time and laughed as the tension in the air eased. Aziraphale took the kettle off the heat and turned off the stove.

“Maybe we can have tea later.”

“Something you’d rather be doing right now, Angel?” Crowley would argue that his voice never “purred,” but he was perfectly aware that it just had. He took a step toward his bedroom and then looked back at Aziraphale in invitation.

“Tempting me, serpent?” Aziraphale reached out a hand and Crowley took it.

“As I recall, you kissed me first.” Crowley pulled him down the hall and into the bedroom, tugging him closer once they got there.

“Well, you would not stop talking and I’m afraid I p... I pani... cked.” 

Crowley had leaned into his space, trailing his nose along the angel’s jaw in an almost nuzzle as he breathed him in.  
“Perfectly good way to shut me up, Aziraphale, bravo.” And then Aziraphale was left with cold air in the space in front of him as Crowley knelt at his feet. “May I?” Crowley paused, hands over Aziraphale’s trouser fastenings.

Aziraphale nodded and was about to say more, but now his trousers were in a pile on the floor at his feet. Crowley suddenly remember what he had been pondering before they got to the door of his flat.

He found himself face to kneecaps with Aziraphale and got a partial answer: the knee to his right looked like any ordinary human knee. The one to the left, however gleamed a bright gold. The gold spread in patterns almost like spiderwebs- or sealed cracks- up into his thigh, disappearing under his pants, and down into his shin, leading to his sock. Crowley reached out a hand to touch, but thought better of it and glanced upwards for permission. Aziraphale didn’t so much look embarrassed or upset as he looked caught out and vaguely concerned.

“You can touch. You won’t hurt me, darling.”

Crowley looked back at the patterns before him, tracing the cool metal replacement kneecap downwards to where it mixed with warm flesh then back up again, following the same lines up Aziraphale’s thigh until his fingers stopped just under his pants. He felt Aziraphale shiver.

“I wanted to ask.”

“You knew?”

“Angel, there’s little about you that’s escaped me in 6,000 years,” Crowley leaned forward and kissed his golden knee, “I just wasn’t sure you’d want me to know.”

“I want you to know everything about me... but this, well...”

“Wouldn’t they heal it for you?” Crowley was proud of himself that his voice remained level. The idea that heaven would let Aziraphale suffer, even after what he’d seen of them when he wore Aziraphale’s body as a disguise... It made his blood boil. He could feel the yellow expanding in his eyes as he vied for some kind of control.

Aziraphale sat heavily on the bed behind him and Crowley immediately filled the space between his knees again, stroking his fingers along the newfound lines.

“I was afraid to ask them to. Afraid they would think less of me or cast me out for my weakness. It was all about casting out then, you know.”

“Yeah, I know... So you healed it yourself.”

“As best I could.”

“But it still hurts.”

“Aches sometimes. If I’ve been on my feet too long or if I’ve been back to Heaven. It’s so very cold there. It seeps in and lingers.” Seemingly without thought, Aziraphale flexed his leg under Crowley’s hands. “Not to mention they don’t seem to believe in chairs. What marvelous inventions, chairs.”

“You hid it from me. Why?”

“My dear serpent,” Aziraphale reached down and caressed the side of Crowley’s face, tilting it upwards so he could meet his eyes, “I didn’t want you to worry. You worry enough. There was nothing you could do.”

Crowley gazed up at him, rubbing his hand up and down Aziraphale’s shin and knee.

“I suppose not.”

“And I don’t want you worrying yourself about it now, either.”

“Okay.”

“No, I mean it. I’m not made of glass. You’re not going to hurt me.”

“I hear you.” Crowley walked his fingers around the back of his knee and found flesh there, making Aziraphale jerk and laugh. “Hmm, been hiding a ticklish spot, too, I see?” Crowley tickled the spot again and Aziraphale tried to pull away, but the demon had his ankle in a strong grip. He sprawled backwards, pulling at the bedspread trying to get away from the merciless fingers.

“Foul fiend!”

Crowley took the moment of distraction to divest him of his socks and shoes and finally completely remove his trousers. Then he released the angel’s ankle and climbed up the bed to face him. Aziraphale was doing the best he could between deep breaths to look put out, but the crinkles around his eyes gave away the smile he was hiding.

“I suppose I only have one more question, then,” Crowley drawled as he traced the edge of Aziraphale’s pants with his fingers, watching in satisfaction as shivers raced up the angel’s body.

“Only one? You? Surely not.”

Crowley traced him through his pants, just a barely-there touch.

“You got anything else that’s gilded?”

“I’ll gild you in a second if you don’t touch me properly!”


End file.
